Oil city pa and the smartest man alive
“Oil City cant be the real name of this place…can it?” - I ask myself after coming across the name on a map while searching for this weekend’s moto trip destination.
I’m from Edmonton AB which in my opinion is the original Oil City but whatever, either way we were going. A town known for hosting gigantic oil companies and with their town motto as “Oil City, a special blend of people” how on earth could I not go as soon as possible? I didn’t feel like investigating any further, mainly because I’m lazy but also because the best experiences usually have little to no planning.
Fast forward to Tyler and I in the garage loading our bikes up for the 4 hour ride, eager to hit the road and get out of the city for the weekend. However, one of the worst parts about living in Toronto is without a doubt the insufferable traffic. Its almost bad enough to make me leave the city for good. And on a Saturday afternoon at the end of a hot summer? You better believe we hit some traffic.
After fighting with downtown slow moving and unaware drivers, we broke free onto the QEW highway and felt a slight taste of freedom. Until we were somewhere around Burlington where the highway turned into a parking lot and we resorted to splitting lanes (which is not yet legal in Ontario but extremely effective).
Once we got through the border it was a definite turning point in the trip, the clouds cleared and the sun came out, and there we were riding through the countryside in small town USA; life is amazing. Of course we stopped for a late lunch at Denny’s (its not even a question at this point) and discussed our extremely rigid plan for the evening which consisted of: find a motel, find a bar, enjoy. Off we went to make a memory…
The road to Oil City is not paved in gold nor is some of it paved at all. I will fully admit at this moment, I may have missed a few turns while leading our party of two on this 3 hour ride. There are seriously SO many tiny little towns and settlements in Western New York and Eastern Pennsylvania. So many in fact that I made a few mistakes assuming certain towns were other certain towns, which then led me to take certain roads based on my assumptions, that ended with a few U turns and amended routes. But on we trudged, weaving our way through the back roads sheltered from wind and the outside world from the immensely thick groves of trees and brush on each side of the road.
As the sun set we snaked our way through the rural countryside and small forests, personally I was hoping we’d get there soon, as I am a total bitch when it comes to cold weather. It became semi cold once the sun set, and I was playing a game called “Are my fingers numb from the cold or just losing circulation from my stupid handlebars?”. There was a tiny moment of desperation at a crossroads with no signs, where we were truly lost with no cell service either, well into dusk and night was soon approaching. On a hunch we headed down a nameless road for what seemed like at least 20 minutes into almost darkness, narrowly missing our first group of deer crossing our path. Up ahead was a stop sign and as we drew near lo and behold was a sign that shouted in capital letters: ‘OIL CITY 12 MILES”. Hell ya here we go! With a new found excitement and lust for life we rode hard in the dark, constantly scanning the road for deer silhouettes in the late evening fading light. Twice more we very closely missed deer crossing the road, one group refusing to move and one group so scared and scattered I thought they were going to run right over us.
1.Double Play
Pulling into Oil City after the 10 minute plus descent on winding roads that lead to downtown with no street lights was a relief. In our normal entrance fashion not knowing where to go at all we cruised around aimlessly for a few minutes until I saw exactly what I was searching for: neon beer logo signs. There it was, Double Play, calling out to me in the increasingly bitter September air softly whispering: “Come over here, I have many alcohols and warmth just for you…” We oblige. Parked the bikes and stiffly walked our half frozen legs across the street like two young Frankenstein’s monsters. The Double Play opened up into a sports fan’s ultimate fantasy. Every kind of sports team memorabilia covering the walls and ceiling, and every kind of typical bar game available (ie: pool, shuffleboard, darts, flip cup, air hockey, you name it, they’ve probably got it). Once settled at the bar we order a shot and a beer naturally, and then whatever we could find that sounded edible on the menu. I believe I ordered a chicken sandwich and Tyler got some chili, to which we both arrived at a 6/10 rating for each of our meals respectively. After a few rounds we found ourselves in a conversation with a nice dude from Texas who was already well on his way to the town known as Blackout Drunk. He invites us to come out to a bar down the street that he described oh so eloquently and accurately as: “Fuckin fun as hell, there’s gonna be a live band and shit”. Sold.
2. Billy’s
After dropping the bikes off at the hotel down the street we walked a few blocks over to Billy’s, which was our recommended place to be. Alright alright, not too bad, just your basic average rock bar in small town America, this should do just fine. Drinks are ordered and we find an open pool table. From here we begin to drain tall boy after tall boy, pretend like we actually are somewhat proficient playing pool, which we certainly were not.
After a few rounds around the ol’ pool table, a clearly inebriated and very loud and boisterous gentleman comes up to us and is so ridiculously over the top friendly its as if we had been friends all our lives. As I’m trying to understand his barely decipherable gibberish mush-mouth speak, I slowly piece it all together and recognize him as the guy from Double Play earlier. Only now he looks completely different, explained in full detail in the story he offers to tell us: “Dude I showed up and they wouldn’t let me in the door because apparently I was too drunk (which he over emphasized with the two finger in quotations motion) so his only option in his booze soaked brain, was to run home, shave his face and slick back his bushy hair, change his clothes and attempt to be granted access to this epic little bar. And it worked. So to celebrate: more rounds of alcohol of course. From here the evening took a very entertaining turn. Our newly reformed bar hopper/intruder/genius friend got into a very loud and very animated lovers quarrel with his significant other. Which was very enjoyable to watch, because this dude was essentially grovelling on his knees at midnight in the middle of the bar. So, we let the lovers continue their silly disagreement while Tyler and I ventured over to the other side of the large half circle bar. On this side we found an entire buffet style table with an endless spread of hopefully delectable food just out in the open. As well there was a gigantic birthday cake, for some well known patron of the bar. We are encouraged by the bartender to dig in and help ourselves to whatever we like. I find a crockpot full of something that resembled meat and start participating in my own sick version of an eating contest. Literally using my hands to reach in and retrieve each delicious morsel. Once satiated with the mystery meat I then moved on to the birthday cake, which in my drunken state tasted like absolute heaven.
I have absolutely zero recollection of how or when we left that bar. When recalling these kinds of nights, it usually is recalled in short chapters separated by sections that are blacked out or un-legible. For example, in this scenario, I remember the cover band firing up that one song from Disturbed that everyone knows, and the next part I remember is walking back to the hotel with a 6 pack of Bud Lite in my possession. From there on, its quite blurry but I can see myself jumping a fence, nearly capsizing and losing all 6 fragile glass bottles of American freedom, followed by throwing a patio furniture chaise into the drained hotel pool, and then lighting up a fresh Parliament.
I very vaguely recall some conversations about life with Tyler, but I feel like my blinks were lasting for minutes at a time. We finish the 6 pack and climb out of the pool and into our 2 star hotel beds, visions of beautiful women and engines that start on the first kick dancing in our heads.
The next morning found us back on the road, eager to let the brisk wind remove any lingering hangover symptoms. Again hugging serpentine roads that curve around small clearings and ponds, Tyler and I let the cool breeze heal our dehydrated bodies and booze soaked organs. After more missed turns than I’d care to admit we somehow made it on the interstate and eastbound home.
And that, was about 14 hours in Oil City Pennsylvania, as well as two fine establishments that quenched our thirst for good times.
